


Dresscode

by Rosehip



Series: Strange Luck [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosehip/pseuds/Rosehip
Summary: Silvana hasn't been in the Circle Tower long, but she knows one thing: the uniforms were designed by men and she's sick of them. Irving is about to hear aaallll about it.





	

Irving looked up as his midmorning appointment stormed into his office. The young woman stood rigidly in front of his desk as though she were a templar and not a mage at all. Her eyes flashed, and if Irving were inclined to write this into a novel, he might describe her as having “high color” at the moment.  
  
“Ah, Miss Amell. I have been expecting you.” He stood to take her hand. “How do you find the Circle, so far?”  
  
She shuffled a few pages of parchment in her hands. “I mostly like it. I enjoy my studies and have made friends, b...”  
  
Irving chuckled. “I admit I did not expect you to choose the friends you have. They are studious and kind, however. Perhaps you could dissuade Macsen the next time he decides to post a rude sign on the statuary in the Great Hall?”  
  
“Jowan tries, First Enchanter. I doubt I will have more influence in that quarter than he does. Actually, it was Macsen wh...”  
  
“Oh, you might be surprised. I think they could both benefit from a little guidance from someone like yourself.”  
  
“I will see what I can do, First Enchanter. But as I was _saying_ , it was Macsen who indirectly gave me the idea that brought me to see you, today. It doesn't involve hot peppers or sacrilege, don't look at me like that.” The last sentence came out in a rush.  
  
Irving schooled his features. He wasn't sure what he'd expressed with his face, but he suddenly wanted to hear this.  
  
“I hope,” Silvana continued, brushing a dark stand of hair behind her ear. “That we can keep this between us, but at first I mistook Macsen for a girl. I thought it strange that 'she' wore the robes of the male apprentices. Obviously, sharing a dormitory with him cleared that right up.”  
  
She hadn't been the first to think that. The child was pretty, and the ensuing shrieking fits and chases through the halls had persuaded everyone involved that it was to everyone's benefit to let him keep his absurdly long hair if he insisted.  
  
Amell plunged onward with her tale. “This initial impression started me thinking, however. I understand the need for us all to dress the same. My mother would have sent me with four trunks of gowns had it been allowed. That wouldn't be fair at all to those who came from different situations. However, within the confines of the dress code, surely there can be some compromise?”  
  
“What did you have in mind? We do our best to keep the uniforms up to date and somewhat stylish, although I am sure we haven't heard of the latest trends as you no doubt have...”  
  
“No, that's not it!” Silvana interrupted. “I find that the feminine robes are, if anything, too stylish for my current situation. They interfere with movement. They call attention where I do not want it called. The excessive construction of the bodice pokes me most distractingly when I am trying to think. I don't mean to ask for special treatment. I have prepared a written statement requesting permission for women to wear the masculine robes if they wish. A few small alterations would render the garments suitable for our figures.”  
  
“Miss Amell, that's quite unnecessary...”  
  
“So easy for you to say! The men are not expected to tolerate wires in their clothes. Will you at least read this?” she held out the sheaf to him.  
  
“I might. I'm sure your arguments are well reasoned and persuasive, but you needn't have gone to the trouble, child.”  
  
“Then, you're just going to say no? Just like that?” Anger sent even more red to her coppery cheeks.  
  
“I'm going to say yes. You are simply the first to make this request. This won't interfere with the reasons we dress as we do. I will send instructions to the stockroom to have some sets made over for you.”  
  
“R-really?!” The wind blew right out of her sails. “Thank you. I expected this to be a bigger deal.”  
  
_If you want to see a big deal, ask for swimming lessons._ Aloud, Irving said “You are full of surprises, child. If that is everything you wished to discuss, then I should return to my other tasks.”  
  
She thanked him and left.  
  
Irving looked over her treatise on the oppressive nature of women's fashion. He saw her point. Heaven knows how one could pull an all-nighter in a corset. That said, it appeared that his hopes that she would provide a civilizing influence on her friends (mostly Macsen) were quite unfounded. Ah, well. He could work with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously though, can you imagine that complicated mess being your only clothes?


End file.
